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Subject: Camping Delights 2 (Husbands, nc)
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Camping Delights (Husbands, nc) 

By Johnny and Jill (as told to Meiraj@aol.com)


Chapter 2. Johnny’s diary - Friday evening

Just as Bill and I came to our tents from taking shower at the shower
house, all the arc lamps at the camp site went off. It was 'lights
out' curfew time. Our wives had returned from the shower house even
before we had headed out for the shower.  So when we returned from our
shower  they had already retired  into our respective pup-tents and
all was quiet.  Only a few muffled voices floated across from nearby
tents who were all preparing to go to sleep. Our tents were side by
side, about five feet away from each other. It was a wooded area with
tall trees all around us. It was a moonless sky. The light from the
star-studded sky did not reach the ground under the trees.  

Using a penlight torch that Bill had we made our way to our picnic
table and set down our bathroom stuff.  Our tents were almost next to
the picnic table.  I said good night to Bill, parted the flaps of my
tent and went in.  I could hear my wife Jill breathing evenly,
obviously fallen asleep, and I did not want to wake her and disturb
that first sweet sleep. Still, she must have sensed some movement even
in that early sleep state, and  not wanting to be disturbed, she
turned on her side to face the tent wall. I waited a full minute to
let her get back to full depth of sleep, then zipped down the entrance
flaps, fumbled for my air pillow, and set myself down to sleep.  I
wanted to spoon and hold Jill, but at the same time did not want to
wake her. Putting my head on the pillow and lying on my back fully
stretched  felt good: I had been apprehensive about this camping
trip, having  never camped before. But Jill, Bill and his wife Bonny
all had camping experiences during their growing up years and they had
persuaded me to try it.

My mind was playing the tapes of our discussions on camping, my
tentative commitment to try it out, and the good feelings it had
generated since we checked in at about 4 O’clock that afternoon.
With Bill’s guidance  we had pitched our tents at a secluded spot on
level soft grass. We had cooked hamburgers on the grill next to the
picnic table, gone for a walk through the camping sites and into the
park area. Jill and Bonny had gone into the swimming pool for a bit,
while Bill and I sat by the pool side and drank some beer. While
watching them swim, I couldn’t help admiring Bonny’s figure and
naturally curly hair.  My wife Jill had a good figure too, but a tinsy
bit on the heavier side. Both were very attractive girls, and both had
become good friends after they had met. Bill and I were close friends
in college and had rekindled that friendship ten years later now. 

As I waited to drift into sleep I felt glad I had come.  The air was
fresh, the rustling of the leaves was calming , the people at the camp
site friendly and jovial. The hamburgers from the B-B-Q grill tasted
better, the beer had more zest.  It had been refreshing change. We had
come in on Friday afternoon, and had planned to stay until Sunday
afternoon. We were only two  hours away from the City.  “Yes, I could
spend the weekend here”, I told myself as I lay there next to Jill.
And  I was just about to roll on my side and cuddle her, when I
thought I heard  sounds from Bill’s tent. I turned my head and
strained my ears to hear better. 

What I was hearing were sounds of love. Yes, Bill and Bonny were
making love.  And the sounds were moanings of Bonny  well on her way
into orgasm.  I recalled what Bill had said when we had gone shopping
for tents, that  pup-tents are especially for lovers. With a smile on
my lips, I continued to strain to hear as much as I could. I focused
on my  window flap that was slightly open, the moaning in the
beginning was and slow and long  Oooooohn, Oooooohn, Oooooohn, then
rising to a quicker tempo - Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, then a
very long Oooooooooooooooooooooohn, then a few seconds of silence,
then some medium Oooh, Oohhs.  My pecker had been  fully awakened by
the sounds.

The more I had strained to draw the sounds in from the small air
window on my right, where Bill’s tent was, the sounds sometimes
appeared to come through the tent window that was  on my left side.
‘Bonny is just like Jill,’ I thought, ‘That is exactly how Jill
moans when she climaxes!’ I loved those moans of my wife. They were
my proof that she was pleased with me and my pecker. I wished Jill was
awake to hear those sounds, sounds that were just like her’s. We
would have started our own symphony before the other one had ended. I
had developed a semi-hard on. 

With the semi-hard on,  I started  to go back  to the light cuddle I
wanted to give my sleeping wife,  it hit me why those sounds had come
from the left window. The other tent was not on my right where it
should have been, but on my left. This is the tent that would have
been on the right,  if I were in the other tent.   That means I am in
the wrong tent. That means Bill is in the wrong tent too.  A sudden
chill went through my spine. My heart stated pounding. It was feeling
hot inside the tent. And for some reason my pecker went to extra
hardness when it was hardly the time for it to do so. 

I aborted  the light cuddle I was  about to give, and lied on my back,
to think. Could it be that I am in Bill’s tent with his wife, and he
in my with my wife?  Had I just heard my wife moaning to delight with
his tool? Had Bill entered the wrong tent, and mounted the wrong
woman?  I asked myself what the probability is of two women having the
same moaning pattern? Obviously very low. So probabilistically
reasoning, it had to be Jill that gave out those moans. I was
disturbed that this thinking was giving a throbbing hardness to my
dick.

I was nonplused as to what was arousing me, the thought I may be
sleeping next to my friend’s wife, or the thought that my wife had
found pleasure from my friend’s tool. He must have a damn good tool
then!  I didn’t like that idea.  I concentrated on examining the
facts in my mental tapes of the evening.  When Bill and I had left our
campsite to go to the showers, Bill was on my left, having just picked
up something from his wife who was already in their tent. That means
he and his tent were left of my tent. When we returned, he was still
on my left. Using him as my compass, and in the sudden darkness that
fell upon us, I had bid good night to him and entered the tent that
was on our right. Bill must have used me as his compass and  assumed
that the other tent was his. Yes, that was it. We were in wrong tents.

The more I became convinced of the error, the more I doubted that
conclusion. I was in a state of  arousal and confusion. Pictures of
Bonny in her swimsuit floated back into my mind, only she did not have
her swimsuit. I wondered if she was sleeping next to me. I wondered if
she had her panties on. I pulled back from those thoughts, not without
some reluctance. More facts came to my mind. I should have suspected
something not right when I stuck my head inside the tent. There was a
sweet, fruity, strawberry smell, a different fragrance.  I had
casually thought that Jill had used a new bath soap - never suspecting
that it may be Bonny’s tent.  In fact, I had enjoyed and felt
pleasure in that new, yes intoxicating fragrance. Yet I had resisted
ideas of riding on that intoxication. I thought again, “Oh, my God, I
am lying next to Bonny here, and my Jill has whooped it up with my
best friend. Did she not suspect it was the wrong man?   Didn’t he
suspect it was the wrong woman? 

My mind went back and replayed the sounds of sex I had heard. My
imagination attached graphics to it.   Knowing Jill, the most probable
scenario was that Jill had pounced on him like a tigress, like she
sometimes does with me. Going at him at a frenzied pace, and lowering
herself over his rod with an urgency of something that needed to be
done yesterday. She played that tigress game with me whenever she felt
horny. She would pretend to be asleep, then I would suddenly hear a
growl, and next second she would be on top of me like a sex starved
mad woman, biting, scratching,, kissing and fucking. She may have done
the same to Bill,  thinking that it was me. But then how could she not
realize it was not me?   Bill is a couple of inches taller and perhaps
15 pounds heavier. Surely she must have felt the difference.   Women
are more sensitive to those kinds of things - at least that is what
they say. Anyway, as I was imagining this scenario, my dick was
throbbing like mad. Yes, I had gotten turned on with the thought of my
wife with my best buddy.  As I became aware of this  I felt angry at
myself and wondered what the hell was the matter with me, whether I
was becoming a pervert or something? 

With some effort I disengaged myself from the scenario in my mind, and
told myself that it was just a nightmare, that I was really sleeping
in my own tent with my wife Jill. I could hear her breathing evenly,
comfortably asleep. I wanted to feel the assurance of familiarity.  I
had pulled away  from her slightly and put a few a few inches between
her and me when I had thought she might be Bill’s wife Bonny. Now
wanting assurance and  confirmation that she was in deed my wife Jill,
I moved myself closer to her, to smell her, to feel her. As if sensing
my thoughts, she turned around in her sleep, and nudged closer to me,
resting her face next to my chest. Slightly awake, she thrust one of
her thighs between my thighs, she lifted her head slightly and made
nudging movements to put her head on my right arm.  I made appropriate
accommodative movements , and drew her into my arms. The two of us
were in a snug fit, she was asleep and I was awake. She was all naked.
And I must have  kicked off my pajamas when the tent had begun to feel
hot.

The fruity smell of soap, I could smell from  her face. It was
wonderful to feel her breath on my chest. I could feel her thigh
wedged in a tight clasp between my thighs. But she felt a little more
petite, as if she had shed some pounds while swimming that evening. I
felt a tinkling sensation deep down in my pubic area and in my stick.
I felt very protective and very affectionate towards her. My lips had
come to rest on the tip of her nose, and I couldn’t help a slow
maneuver to sliding down a bit to plant a gentle kiss on her lips -
gentle enough not to wake her. Her lips felt voluptuous even in her
sleep. She had of course drifted back into deep sleep, comfortable and
secure in my arms.  She felt so familiar and so comfortable that I
could not doubt that she was not my wife. Part of me chided myself for
entertaining the idea that she was anybody else other than my wife
Jill.  

Still, as a husband I wanted to be sure, especially when it was pitch
dark.  Yes, it was total, absolute darkness like when you go into a
walk-in closet at night and close the door behind you.  I remembered
that Jill had a mole in her back, but couldn’t remember exactly
where.  My left hand was on her back and I started a slow and light
search for the mole. I couldn’t find any, no matter how many times I
slid my hand around and felt her back. Then I thought may be it was on
her buttock. I explored there too, as much of it as was possible in
our snug fit positions. Nothing! I remembered she had asked me a
couple of months ago if I knew where all she had moles and birthmarks
on her body, and I had not been able to list them to her satisfaction.
And she had said that men were such dummies when it came to
remembering such things.  

May be my feeling her out on her back and her derriere awakened her a
bit, or may be she felt a bit tickled. She slid her thigh out  and
changed position to sleep on her back.  I made appropriate
accommodating movements but didn’t like losing her thigh which had
wedged against my stiff penis. So I moved my left knee up and brought
it to rest on her left thigh. It felt nice and comfortable again. Now
my left hand was entirely free. As if it had its own mind, it moved to
make its own investigations, to feel out her breasts and nipples. That
would tell me for sure if she was or was not my wife Jill. The breasts
felt a bit firmer and were a comfortable handful, not the everyday
experience of more than a handful. The nipples were firm, round,
sharply outlined at the rims like a yet to be used eraser at the end
of a pencil.   Jill’s nipples  usually felt more like grapes, and my
evidence was indicating that she may not be my wife Jill. Still, I had
to be more sure.

The moving hand moved on down to cross the panty barrier, except that
there was no barrier. Anyway, as soon as I crossed the barrier zone,
and I should say even a bit before that, I felt an abundance of soft
silky hairs. I remembered them to be curly and not so soft. I should
have stopped right there. I had enough evidence of who she was or was
not. But my hand ventured on down  on to her mound and between her
legs. I could feel a slight moistness there. My heart was racing as I
ran my fingers lightly over the labia lips. They felt soft, succulent
and willing to part if my finger wanted to go for a tour inside the
cave.  I used my middle finger just enough to make the definitive test
of taste. Yes, she was definitely not my wife Jill. That meant she was
definitely Bill’s wife Bonny. But I had liked all the factual
evidence I had gathered. I had liked it too much and dick was in
complete and full agreement with me. 

My conscience popped up. I trembled that perhaps my investigative
procedures had not been thoroughly gentlemanly. After all she was my
best friend’s wife. I had an obligation to defend and protect her
honor.   Instead I had touch-toured her body, I had grasped her
breasts and touched her labia lips, even if only superficially. I felt
slightly guilty. The fact that her husband had fucked my wife, fucked
her hard and solid to the point of eliciting her moans, did not seem
reason enough for me to have subjected Bonny to that kind of body
search. But, if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have known I
shouldn’t have done it. I was ashamed of myself for not being a
thorough gentleman that everybody thinks I am. I promised myself that
I would be gallant and defend her honor if it ever needed defending.
What had been done, had been done.   It was a rational investigation.
The situation had called for it. Luckily she was not conscious of what
had been done, and by whom. And that was good.

My thoughts turned to Bill. Exactly how much responsibility was his
for the whoopee he and Jill had?  Did he actively and deliberately
initiate some foreplay with Jill? Did he have excess testosterone
aroma that aroused Jill?....Why did he not realize it was not his wife
that he was fucking.  If not at the start, he should have realized
soon after? Why did he not stop right then before things boiled over?
Has he had an eye for Jill? Was he looking for an opportunity to
skewer her? As these thoughts floated across my mind, I found myself
getting a hard on again. The more I tried to visualize what may have
happened in the other tent, the more my pecker was getting stiffer. I
had to pull away  from Bonny as I did not want to wake her up by  my
throbbing pecker. I couldn’t help feeling that my mind was sick,
wicked, devilish to be giving  me a hard on  picturing Bill in Jill
and Jill around Bill. I am basically a nice and decent guy. I hadn’t
gotten that kind of throbbing hardness when I was cuddling Bonny when
I thought she was my wife  Jill.  I am not the type that would eagerly
want to enter a pussy that did not belong to him.  With all these
thoughts, some very confusing and the questions that kept popping up,
with no hope of finding answers, and with a wild wicked sort of bodily
chemistry I had never before experienced,  I still felt good about
myself, knowing  who I am and What I am; and what I stood for,
regardless of what it stood for at the moment. I think I fell asleep
at that point.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Continued in Camping Delights  Chapter 3. Jill’s Diary for Friday
night



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